


And Then There Was This

by ticktockclockwork



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2012-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-10 06:52:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticktockclockwork/pseuds/ticktockclockwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of my random Potterlock pieces. Likely to be without order and just a variety of one-shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then There Was This

Gone were the days of dark lords and dark marks and in their place resided a sumptuous and calming golden age for the wizarding world. It had been many years since the grounds of Hogwarts were painted with the blood of the good, the bad and the in between. Instead it was simply littered with wayward students and various pets. It was the start of the new year, the summer still lingering so the warmer clothes had not yet been pulled out. Instead, students were lying out in the fields or playing in the shade.

And completely ignorant of the explosion coming from the dungeons.

Standing amid the acrid smoke was none other than the resident potions master, Professor Watson, who’s oatmeal sweater was now ruined, sporting scorch marks and burn holes. One of his students next to him wasn’t fairing much better, though they, at the very least, had had a smock on that took the brunt of the explosion. Letting out a comical cough and wiping the soot from his eyes he looked to his flabbergasted student with wry humor rather than a reprimanding face. Unlike most of his predecessors, John was kind. And dangerously patient.

“Well… that clearly wasn’t right, now was it?” He asked with another cough, patting down his jumper and waving away the ash. The student offered an apologetic smile, bumbling about to try and clean up as he collected the various tools that had been blown off the table. Lucky for the little Hufflepuff girl, her cauldron was salvageable. Unfortunately, her grade on the project was not. Who was he kidding, though. He always gave a lot of extra credit opportunities. She’d be fine. “Let’s call it a day, yeah? No use pushing our luck.” His humor seemed to ease some of her nerves and before long she was scuttling off to her dorms. With a flick of his wand, his own clothes were cleaned, but sadly still riddled with holes. Too bad. He liked this jumper.

Closing up the room for the day, John headed outside to enjoy some of the sun before it was gone, still brushing some soot that he’d missed. The warmth was nice, casting away the damp and biting cold that always set in when he spent too much time in the dungeons. He’d been a Gryffindor when he’d attended so he still wasn’t entirely used to spending the majority of his time in the dungeons, but he was adjusting fairly well. He loved it here. It was why he’d chosen to come back here after his stint as an auror all went pear-shaped.

A shadow passed overhead and he tipped his face up, blocking the suns glare from his eyes to see who it was flying. Normally the students stuck to the Quidditch pitch since they were prone to…well… crashing. And it was simply wiser to involve as few innocent bystanders as possible when that happened. It wasn’t a student though and John had to roll his eyes at the form now hovering over him.

“Should I even ask?” The deep voice that came from above sounded simultaneously amused and disappointed and John gave him a sour look, back-stepping to get a better look without the other being against the sun.

“It was an accident. Shouldn’t you be teaching a class right now?”

There was a flippant wave of the hand and a roll of the eyes as Sherlock lowered to the ground. “They were insufferable. Didn’t even know how to properly mount the broom.”

“They’re first years Sherlock. Most probably didn’t even know brooms could fly. Just have a little patience with them.” He stepped forward and reached up to grab a leaf that had tangled itself in Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock, for his part, rolled his eyes up and blew the curls off his brow before returning his attention to John.

“Regardless, I ended class early.” John snorted but Sherlock continued. “With strict instructions to practice over the weekend.”

“Yes, yes and we both know how well that will end. Do I need to come and sub one of your classes for you?”

“Yes. We’ll trade. Perhaps you’ll be able to avoid burning your jumpers when you’re up in the air.”

Sherlock didn’t even see it coming when John shoved him down to the grass playfully then turned to head back to the school. Sherlock just humfed and got back to his feet. He mounted his broom and zipped past John, side-swiping him and then turning 180 while coming to a sharp halt in front of the large oak doors. “What are you doing tonight?”

“I was going to grade some essays.” John said, approaching Sherlock with a smirk and tilting his head.

“Boring. We’re having dinner. I will meet you in the great hall at seven.” And then he was off to harass that poor Anderson fellow who had the awful job of working in the greenhouses. John shook his head ruefully and headed inside to clean up. At seven they had dinner together and all the students giggled into their goblets and pretended to look away when either of them looked up because it was so obvious to everyone but those involved that their potions and flying professors were totally an item. 

THE END.


End file.
